


My Heart Has Me Afraid

by Krasimer



Series: Don't Take My Sunshine Away [11]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ballet, Ballet Sadness, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Female Characters, Female Friendship, Female Homosexuality, Female Protagonist, Female Relationships, Female-Centric, Happy Ending, I Don't Even Know, Loss of Control, Normal Life, Past Mind Control, Photographs, Photography, Retired Ballerina, Self-Acceptance, This Is My Body, re-learning, sad but hopeful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7575655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was not herself, she was not the woman screaming in her thoughts.</p><p>Her hands clawed into the top of her head, tugging painfully at the hair, raking nails across the skin. She was the evening spider, the living nightmare that has haunted so many, but her own grief will rise to consume her. The warmth she had fought for, the selfish urge to make at least one of Talon's weapons able to feel something, it was going to tear her apart.</p><p>The door behind her opened, and she lay still, unable to bring herself to look.</p><p>(Takes place during the time between Jack and Gabe getting knocked out and finally waking up together.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Begin Again

Her own mind was going to kill her, this was how she was going to die.

Years and years of going out on missions and this was how she was to find her end. She was going to die curled up in a bed in what had once been an enemy organization's base. There was the too-slow beat of her own heart to keep her company and she was going to die here. The voices in her head, the one that sounded oddly like her own, that was all the company she was to have as she slipped away. The mortal coil would not hold her, the pain in her head too much to bear. 

She was not herself, she was not the woman screaming in her thoughts.

Her hands clawed into the top of her head, tugging painfully at the hair, raking nails across the skin. She was the evening spider, the living nightmare that has haunted so many, but her own grief will rise to consume her. The warmth she had fought for, the selfish urge to make at least one of Talon's weapons able to feel something, it was going to tear her apart.

The door behind her opened, and she lay still, unable to bring herself to look.

"'allo," came a soft voice. "Doctor'll be in to check on ya soon, bring you some news about what is 'appening to you. Won't that be nice?"

It was the light bringer, the blue flash that seemed to follow her everywhere. The cheery voice cannot be mistaken for anyone else, that was the woman who had gotten in her way more times than she could count.

Strangely, despite all expectations, her presence was anchoring.

She rolled over in the bed, let her bare feet drag through the blanket before she resettled. "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice strained and hard to use.

Five days spent in silence other than wordless noises here and there. 

The woman stared back at her, brown eyes wide. "Wanted ta keep you company. Is it a'right if I do?"

She sighed, pressed a hand against her face before nodding. "I do not want to be alone," she started, then shrugged. "But I do. I do want to be alone, but I do not want to be alone."

"Sounds like you got quite a bit goin' on in that head a' yours," she said quietly. Her tone was softer, like she understood the need for calm and quiet. She was smart, picked up on things quickly, always had. When fingers twisted through her hair, gently at first, a bit more confident when there wasn't an attack. She felt the other woman's breath on her back, nothing more intimate than a gentle taking care of, but it felt alien.

Abnormal.

"Why are _you_ here?" she asked again. "Of all people, Chérie."

"I'm here ta keep you company," was the soft answer, some of her bravado having fallen away. "Ya've been in here for near a week, luv. I get that you need some time, but it's not 'ealthy to lock yourself away forever. Come with me," she offered, pulling another section of hair into her hands and twisting it into the style she had started to pull together. "Was gonna go have a meal with the others, but I think it might be best if ya stay at a distance fer a bit. Your own mind fightin' against you, right?"

As if to agree with her, the nearly-prone woman's stomach growled, her arms slipping down to wrap around it. "If I say yes," she began softly, her amber colored eyes sliding sideways to look at the other. "Will you relent?"

"What do you mean?"

She sat up slowly, letting Lena's hands keep hold of her hair, continue to play with it. "If I come eat with you, will you leave me alone?"

Lena's eyes went dark, a frown on her normally smiling face as her hands stilled. 

Without noticing, she went on. "I am not worth pulling out of my own mind, you will not like what you see," she looked up and met Lena's eyes, shuddered backwards at what she saw. "How many times 'ave I nearly killed you, Chérie? How many times 'ave I nearly killed your friends?"

Her hands moved quickly as she finished the braid, tying off the end with the elastic band she'd pulled off the table. "You aren't being fair to yourself," Lena muttered, shaking her head. "Once upon a time-"

"You think this is a fairy tale, that some magic you work will wake me up and my 'eart will beat once more?"

"- A long time ago, to be exact, they were your friends too," Lena covered her mouth, shaking her head when she tried to interrupt again. "A long time ago, you had a family and friends and people who cared about you as more than a weapon Talon put together from the pieces they'd pulled out of you. You were...You were one of us."

She pulled her hands away, stared into her eyes, searching. "Somewhere in there is the woman I knew," she whispered. "The one who figured out that I was still here when things got all pear-shaped."

They watched each other, the woman on the bed trying to keep their gazes locked together even as her body began to shake. "...Can you finish my hair?" she said it softly, like she was afraid of anything else. "It is still down and in the way."

"Sure thing luv," Lena zipped back to chipper faster than could be handled by any sane person. As she twisted the thick braid up into a bun, the woman in front of her sat still and thought. Her hands were cupped over her knees, her eyes locked on her tattoo. "So what do you think?" she asked when she was done, "I think I did alright."

Her hands were shaking as she uncurled her entire body. Her fingers traced carefully over the strands of hair that had been braided and curled around themselves and tucked up and out of the way.

"Do ya need a mirror? I'll be right back!"

With another flash of blue light, she was gone, back in seconds with a small mirror. It's frame was silver, roses around the edges made of enamel and pressed metal. It was a lovely little thing, and she took it with her trembling hands and turned it to see the person staring back at her. She was the same as she remembered, golden eyes and blue skin, long dark hair now carefully arranged in an out-of-the-way style that still framed her face.

She nearly choked on her own breath, her fingers tracing across the glass as she studied her own face.

"I know her," she whispered.

Lena hovered at her side, her hands twisted together and pressed against her stomach as she nodded. "I know."


	2. On Fragile Limbs

Her head feels like it's spinning.

For the first time in years, her own interests aren't being trained away. For the first time in literal _ages_ , she is the one in control of her body.

Her muscles are hers, her hair is hers, her body and her mind are hers for the first time in _forever_. If she wanted, she could cut off the long length of her hair, buzz it all down to the scalp and start over. She could pierce every part of herself if she wanted to, could tattoo over every inch of her skin. She vaguely remembers a feeling like this when she became a legal adult but this is so much more encompassing.

She doesn't tattoo herself or pierce anything that hasn't already been pierced.

This is her body.

She remembers now, remembers the way it is supposed to move, remembers the long hours of training she had put in. Her entire life, training every day after school, in between college classes, in the morning, at night.

Maybe that's why Talon's control hadn't seemed as harsh as it actually was, not until she had seen the warmth and wanted it for her own.

The first thing she does is look for her old belongings. This was the base Ger- Her Husb- This was the base he had operated out of. If there was anything to be found of her old life, it would likely be here.

She wondered if it was at all startling to the Bringer of Light when she asked to be accompanied to the store rooms.  
Instead of showing anything even remotely close to being startled, Lena had simply smiled at her and gone to retrieve the keycodes for the rooms. They were likely being tailed, a small flash of brilliant green in the background, out the corner of her eye. The younger Shimada.

She remembered him, too.

"A'right, this ought to be it," Lena pressed her lips together, pressed her thin fingers to the keypad, pressed the door open. As if every movement she made needed to be pressed into the skin of the world, a lasting bruise, something more than an echo.

A reminder that she was still here.

Her jacket had been pulled off, her tank top stuck under the edges of the Chronal Accelerator. Her shoulders were freckled, remnants of the sunshine she had seen more than twenty years before as a new recruit. 

Inside the room was a literal wall of boxes.

Lena sighed, then laughed. "Looks like we've got a bit of a job ta do," she remarked, looking at her like it was a joke they shared. After a moment, she managed a smile, the shape of her mouth reassuring the younger woman that all was well. "Best get started, yeah? Think the boxes we're looking for are marked with your last name."

"...Can you tell me what I am looking for?" she asked quietly.

Those big brown eyes blinked at her, wide and more than a little scared. "Oh, luv, we're looking for Lacroix. Probably written in Winston's handwriting, so big letters and a date underneath. He always did 'ave a way of organizing things, yeah? We'll find it eventually, don't'chu worry about that!"

They separated, Lena's legs carrying her to the back of the room in a flash of blue.

The organization was absurd, but it was to be expected. Twenty years of being left to sit, even in an airlocked room, there was a chance of everything she was looking for being ruined. Overwatch had disbanded, after all, everything left to chance when the doors had closed and the people had left.

"I think I may have found somethin'," Lena announced a few hours later. "Was sort of buried, but it has your name on it. 'Amélie Lacroix', whole thing, not just your family name."

Wordlessly, she held out her hands.

"What," she cleared her throat, pulled the top off the crate, pushed aside the layers of packing material. "What was I like?"

Inside lay a photo album, one of the few things made of paper. She traced her fingers over the lettering on the cover, tapped what she knew to be a family crest once with the tip of her finger before shaking her head. "Was I the one who made this?"

"You were really proud of it," Lena smiled for her, a quirk of her lips to one side as she nodded. "I remember a full week where you wandered around with a camera, taking photos of anyone who held still long enough. Mostly you stuck to your friends but sometimes you would branch out and take a photo of someone else. There're a couple of really nice ones, if I remember right, of Reyes and Morrison before everything went wrong between them."

She hummed in response, pulling out of the crate almost reverently before handing it off. "I will not disturb those memories for now," she swallowed nervously. Her hands were shaking, out of fear or anger or what she did not know.

This is her body.

If she wanted her emotions, she could have them.

She smiled apologetically, watched as Lena nodded in return and cradled the book to her chest. As if she were holding a child, as if it were something precious. Returning to her search found her more things, memories flickering by as she held them.

Deeper in the box, there they were.

Her legs ached, the sort of ache she remembered from six hours of intensive training, the soreness that sat in her bones but always made her feel so proud. This was who she had been before, this was the woman before an alteration in her brain. She pulled them out, showed them to Lena with what she knew to be the first happy smile she had worn in years.

"Do they still fit?" was the question in return. 

"I do not know," she whispered, looked down at her own feet for a moment before swallowing her nerves. She unlaced her shoes, pulled them off, stretched her toes for a moment. 

Once the actual ballet shoes were on her feet, muscle memory kicked in. 

Not the crisscrossed laces of a show, nothing decorative or fanciful. She tied them around her ankles, tightly but not too tightly. Her mother's voice, her grandmother's words, they echoed in her mind as she ran her fingers over the edges. This was right, this was her. This was who she was supposed to be.

This is her body. She would do with it what she wanted.

"Need a hand, luv?"

She looked up, focused on the hand offered to her for a moment before taking it and being pulled to stand. They pinched in the way they should, the sides rigid and new, even after two full decades. She had bought new ones just before Talon had taken her away, lashed a hand through all of her dreams. Even without her heels, she was still taller than Lena. In almost no shoes at all, she still stood five inches taller, the oddly cropped brown hair able to tickle her nose if she just stepped close enough to let it.

She has not danced in twenty years.

"If you want, I think there might be a railing in the gym you could use?" Lena offers, still holding her hand. The photo album is tucked under her other arm, and maybe one day there will be strength enough for her to open it and see.

But for now, this will do.

"I would like that," she manages the words after a moment, leans down to pick up her other shoes. "Would I be able to take my belongings from here?"

"Yeah, sure!" Lena is all smiles, her face lit up like the sun as she settles the book back into the crate, closes it back up and balances it on her hip. They walked out the door together, her still feeling the clench of the shoe around the foot that has all but forgotten how to wear it. Her training is dusted over, nearly forgotten as well, but her muscles twitch in anticipation.

Outside is the cyborg, his hands curled in his lap as he sits on the floor. "All is well?" he asks, his voice modulated slightly. She does not remember him any other way.

"All's fine, luv," Lena nodded at him, stumbled over a rising board in the floor for a moment before he takes the crate from her. He was careful, his hands cradling it like he knew how much it meant.

She catches Lena before the younger woman even has time to send herself back, resettled her on her own feet. 

"Will you join me?" 

The words were rusty, years of disuse coloring them, her cheeks a somewhat flushed color as she asked. Lena is all smiles once more, her light back at full force, the edges of her a brilliant blue. "I would love to, luv!"

Relief soared through her veins, her heart giving a hard thud in her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so here for emotional, people-loving, "I used to be a professional ballet dancer" and "I hold a camera, be still!" Amelie Lacroix.
> 
> If you aren't, then you're probably in the wrong story.
> 
> Anyway, if you liked it, please tell me! If you didn't like it, please tell me! I'm having fun figuring out who Widowmaker is now that she's away from Talon.


	3. Taking Back The Light

"Oh, there you are!"

Lena's voice was chipper, the blue flash that announced her arrival bringing a smile to her face. "I brought you something," she continued, her hands wrapped protectively around the package she held.

"Oh?" she blinked, allowed the idea to settle in her mind for a moment before she paused again. "Quelle?"

"I brought you a gift, luv," Lena was all smiles as she handed it over, her brown eyes sparkling in the light coming through the window. "Think of it as a room-warmin' gift, somethin' ta welcome you to yer new space. Do you like the view? I tried to help them figure out a good room to give you, wanted to make sure you had a nice view to remember that yer...Well," she shrugged, a somewhat awkward laugh falling from her throat. "Yer 'ere now, luv, that's all that really matters."

There was a moment of quiet between them as Lena perched on the edge of the bed. 

She stroked her fingers over the lid of the box, felt the weight of it in her hands. "I do enjoy my view," she answered honestly, her golden eyes flicking over to look out the window as she spoke. "Thank you for helping them choose it for me."

"Oh, go on and open it!" 

The younger woman seemed to vibrate in her seat as slim fingers curled under the edges of the lid, pulling it off carefully and setting it aside. Underneath that was a layer of tissue paper, a rainbow slick of colors in muted, warm tones. Golds and bronzes and browns and yellows, the sort of decorative thing she remembered having loved once.

Beneath what turned out to be several layers of paper like that, she found the prize at the bottom.

It was a set of cameras.

One of them was new, a brand new version of one she vaguely remembered from before. It was a compact little thing, the color of it pleasing to look at, the shade of silver elegant and lovely.

The other was old, far older than the other, the sort of camera that printed out the photo as it was taken. In the moment, impulsive, instantaneous, it reminded her of Lena and the first of herself. 

"I didn't know which you'd like better," Lena's toes tapped nervously against the ground, her entire body jittering with energy as she waited for a reaction. Her fingers were twisted in the blankets, a small smile on her face, her knees bouncing up and down.

"I love them both," she managed to say at last, pulling the older one into her lap to run careful fingers over it. The lens was intact, barely any damage to the body of it, it seemed as if it could still...

She smiled, raised the camera and clicked the button. 

It made a whirring noise, a few clicks, and clatters as it worked, the picture coming out of the body of the camera like a tongue. "Oi!" Lena laughed, covering her face. "What're you doin', takin' pictures o' this ol' mug? Got prettier things to photograph, luv!" 

"Non," she whispered, pulling the photo away from the body of the camera to watch it develop. The colors faded in slowly but in the end, it was Lena, caught in a moment in time, her eyes wide and hopeful, her entire body tensed as she waited. "This is a photo of the loveliest person I know," she smiled at her, then grinned as a thought occurred to her. "Shall we go on a hunt?"

She offered the second camera to the younger woman. "It 'as been a long time since I was able to photograph anyone, I want to create a new book."

"I can help with that," Lena took it gently, turned it on with a few buttons pushes. "Who's our first target?"

 

xXx

 

They stood in the shadows, Lena across the hall from her. 

Most of the new Overwatch had gathered in one room, all vaguely connected in the way a room of people always were. They were involved with their own projects, McCree oiling his gun, the Shimadas sitting awkwardly near each other close by. The omnic was floating behind the younger brother, the orbs that circled his neck glowing softly as he seemed to meditate. Gabriel and Jack weren't present, probably still curled up together in their quarters, trying to make up for two decades of lost time.

She would find them later.

For now, she simply watched for a moment. The newer members, the musician and the young woman, they sat together in front of a screen, each seeming to be holding a controller. Mercy and Pharah sat at a table together, discussing something in quiet voices, their knees brushing as they spoke.

They were a little scattered, but they were still together.

Reinhardt noticed her first, she found out. It was only when his hand settled gently on her shoulder that she realized her was there. "Hello, what are you doing?" he smiled at her, then noticed her camera. "Oh, I suppose I should not-" he laughed, cut off from his words by her raising her camera and snapping a quick shot of him, Lena taking a couple of photos of the rest of the group.

"I see you are remembering," he said softly, kneeling down to meet her eyes. 

She smiled back at him, her thumb carefully stroking over the body of her camera. "It is one of the best ways to remember," she nodded when he reached to take the photo and paused before he actually touched it. "Do not shake it, it may ruin the end product."

"My grandfather had one of these cameras," he explained, leaning back onto his free hand as he waited for it to develop, grinning when it showed his laughing face. "You waited until just the right moment, I see. Is a good look for me, no?" 

She nodded, then turned to watch Lena for a second before raising the camera and snapping a shot of her. "Laughter is a good look on most people."

"I believe it is," Reinhardt stood again. "I remember a young woman who would wander around base with a camera in her hands. She loved dance and she loved photography," he held the photo out to her. "I am glad to see her come home. We should not have to bury our friends in such large amounts."

He pulled the photo of Lena out of the camera, a smile curling his mouth as he studied it. "Take care of that camera, yes?"

With one last chuckle, he handed her that photo as well, wandering into the room with the rest of the group. The photo of Lena was slightly off kilter, a twisted angle giving it the same sort of character as the woman herself. It had captured her in the moment before she had taken off, her feet starting to move, her Chronal Accelerator shining like a beacon, the second camera held in front of her face.

"I will," she whispered, watching the people in front of her move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amelie Lacroix loved photography and Widowmaker probably would have liked it too. Now she's something in the middle, so she's trying to balance everything.
> 
> If you liked it, do you want to tell me what you thought? Please do! I love hearing from you guys.


	4. Take Back What Is Yours

It's a little bit like dancing.

Her steps make her legs shake, every toe aching from the movements not performed in twenty years. Her arms are flexed on the bar, her body pointed towards the mirror before her, her eyes focused on their own reflections. There is sweat on her forehead, a strain of muscles keeping her on her toes as she breathes, in through the nose out through the mouth, breathe breathe breathe.

On the floor behind her, she can see the remains of her hip length ponytail, a pair of gleaming scissors next to it. Her hair is shoulder-length and tied back into a bun now, the edges slightly uneven.

They did not let her be anything other than what they wanted.

This body is hers and hers alone.

If she chooses to share it with someone, anyone, it will be her choice. If she wants to dance until her feet bleed, then it will be _her choice_. Her arms shake on the bar, her gaze traveling down to latch onto the pointe shoes she traded her practice shoes for. Her body is used to fighting, to falling off of buildings and relying on split second calculations to avoid a gruesome death. The grace and speed she had put to use in dancing, it was corrupted into a weapon.

This is her taking it back.

They trained her as something far more dangerous than an ambitious woman, the brilliant wife of an Overwatch agent, a sleeper agent they could control. 

She was their spider, their poisonous arachnid that meant death for everyone she crossed.

The door behind her opens slowly and she watches it, stays on her toes and simply balances there. Effort expended to hold still rather than to move, a strain on her body, the muscles unused to the hold after two decades of disuse.

"'Allo luv," she is greeted. Lena stands behind her, watches her hold herself. In her hands is a tray of food, two meals present on top of it, two glasses of water. "Thought I'd bring you dinner, you-"

"S'il vous plaît," she moves one hand slowly, shifts her weight. "You may stay. I am nearly finished, Chérie. 'ow are you?"

"Good, actually," Lena smiles as she comes closer, settles herself on the floor a few feet away. "Mercy's workin' on somethin', wants to see you tomorrow for it. She thinks, just maybe, there's somethin' what can be done about your skin. I know you mentioned it to her, thought you'd like ta hear an update."

"Je vous remercie," she whispers.

She lets her body go lax all at once, hits the floor and rolls backward until she is on her knees and faces the mirror once more. With a self-satisfied smile, she pulls out the pinnings of her hair, lets it fall in a dark swathe around her shoulders. It is still long, still going to be difficult to control into a sleekness she remembers, but the difficulty is also a remembered thing. Her hair was never controlled.

Her mother's disapproving tut echoes in her mind, the noise of a spray can of holding spray following it.

"Would you even up the edges for me?" she asks as she unlaces her shoes and stretches her joints out. "It was a hasty cut, it left something of an...Unevenness that I do not appreciate."

"Oh, wow!" Lena laughs. "You look beautiful. And yeah, I will."

She sets her meal aside, clambers over and snags the scissors from their place on the floor. Settling behind her companion, she gets to work on the ends. "Your hair is so lovely," she gushes, runs her fingers through the end before resettling. It takes only a few minutes and then she brushes a hand down the back of it, taming the stray hairs. "You're so lovely looking," she whispers.

Golden eyes are pinned on her over a shoulder before she knows it.

"Sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable luv, just-"

A pair of lips seals over her own, the younger woman's words swallowed in a kiss that is somehow both chaste and fiercely possessive all at once. Amélie pulls back, her eyes glittering in the lights of the gym they sit alone in. "It is not uncomfortable," she assures.

Barefooted and smiling, Amélie leans back, her hands still on Lena's shoulders as she does. "Ah, but perhaps I 'ave made you uncomfortable, Chérie? Many apologies," she traces a hand over her cheek, studies the curve of her lips. "I find myself drawn in," she is finally happy, a true smile gracing her lips.

A shaky breath rattles out of Lena's chest, one of her hands coming up to wrap around Amélie's wrist. "You-" her eyes are wide as she stares back.

"Was that too much?"

"Kiss me again, luv, we'll find out together," she breathes the words out.

Amélie leans in once more.

At nearly two months since her release, she is finally free to choose her own way in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use names as symbols. 
> 
> When their name is used instead of the title they were running around with, they are themselves again. Soldier: 76 becomes Jack, Reaper becomes Gabriel, Widowmaker becomes Amélie.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this part of the story. There is still much in store for this 'Verse.
> 
> Tell me what you thought? What you enjoyed? Anything you hated?

**Author's Note:**

> You wanted sad Widowmaker, right? 
> 
> Come shout at me about stories and headcanons and things over on tumblr at Krasimer or LookUponMyWorksYeMighty!


End file.
